Tell Tale Shot
by Holly Rose E
Summary: Slightly and Peter celebrate that Peter lives on forever. Slash.


Tell Tale Shot  
  
By: Holly Rose E  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Summary: Slightly and Peter celebrate that Peter lives on forever.  
  
Author's Note: My New Year's Resolution - to transform the Peter Pan section into a slash haven. Yup.  
  
Author's Rant: This is based off THE BOOK BY J.M. BARRIE seeing as this IS the BOOK section. *glowers at those who came after the new movie*  
  
Author's Warning: This is SLASH, no not Hook-Peter, for that is pedophilic and that is really the only thing I frown upon in fan fiction. (so far, anyway, I'm waiting to stumble upon a story that changes my mind).  
  
Disclaimer: Trust me, if I had any rights to Peter Pan, I'd be hawking out new adventures faster than you could say 'wendy in fan fiction is a mary- sue'. It's sad, really. NOW ON TO THE STORY! (that's gotta be the longest author's note I've had in a*long* time...)  
  
*****  
  
Tell Tale Shot  
  
*****  
  
On most nights, the noise you could always count on to resound in your head and reverberate like the most relaxing hot pool was the songs of the Never birds as they chirped melancholically to a sweet, sad tune. The padded, careful steps of the wolves and tigers as they prowled and hunted the smaller, weaker animals. One could be sure that their eyes gleamed in the moonlight, their tails swishing back and forth with fervor as they caught the scent of a feast.  
  
The Indians, as they were wont to do, were plodding along after the four-legged carnivores as Tiger Lily - their brave, beautiful princess - stalked in front, leading them along as she silently planned attack.  
  
Out in the ocean, the mermaids frolicked playing with each other's hair as it wafted and waved in the water, so much more precious and silky there underneath than when they surfaced. They surfaced for three reasons: games, food, and Peter.  
  
As did the pirates, though not precisely all three at the same time. Under their leader, the nefarious Captain Jas Hook-or has he preferred not to be called, James-- they obsessively tore up the land and its inhabitants to try and find a way to the home under the ground where the entirety of Neverland knew was where the Pan and his crew of miscreant boys lived.  
  
While all this took place above, the lost boys fell asleep to get prepared for the next day. Nibs, bless him, was squished between the twins as they each had an arm crisscrossed about his chest, trapping him while he lay there peacefully, a trail of spittle slowly beginning to ooze out of his open mouth.  
  
Tootles and Curly were on the floor, using the other for a pillow; Tootles hadhis thumb in this mouth as he had fallen asleep sucking on it.  
  
They were all asleep soundly in their respective spots, beside the odd misplacements of a pert-nosed Slightly and a skeleton-leafed clad Peter Pan.  
  
These two boys were atop the highest mountain, having flown there after the rest of the boys had finally fallen into their dreaming abyss.  
  
It was their normal spot for when the two wanted to just be alone in silence--which was actually quite rare for Peter, but he opted to spend those moments with Slightly, his closest and most trusted. They always watched the night sky as the stars began to awaken and whisper to one another.  
  
Peter was fidgeting, hopping to and fro from one rock to the other, easily keeping his balance as he cheated with his flight. He was practicing his sword skills, thrusting and trying to preserve his ease at dodging a blow, usually from Hook. Slightly was sitting on a rock, knees up to his chest with his arms wrapped around his boyish legs.  
  
"Peter?" he called.  
  
The clan-leader gave a short non-verbal acknowledgement, trying to fight the urge to keep practicing. Eventually a tiny instinct gave him a swift, hard kick and he shielded his dagger. He hopped over to where Slightly sat, looking strangely forlorn.  
  
"Peter, what happens when you grow up anyhow?"  
  
Peter, alarmed at such a question, quickly jumped back, worried. "Why? You'll just have to work and do whatever somebody tells you and then you'll grow old and die. Come on, let's spar."  
  
"Peter," Slightly sighed, his elder's--in NeverYears, that was--name rolled off his tongue with the fluid ease of a practiced ballerina. "We all have to grow up sometime, however." He cut himself off as Peter was beginning to seethe, looking more irate as the seconds slowly ticked by and the words tumbled out of Slightly's mouth. "However," he started again, "That doesn't mean I myself want to. I just wanted to know, was all. Besides, you're always going on about how much you hate grown-ups, I was just curious of what happened to you."  
  
"You become a bloodthirsty, stupid ole pirate!" Peter crowed, laughing at himself.  
  
Slightly went along, though not for a moment finding it amusing. "I'm serious, Peter, the way you go about taking the whole thing-."  
  
Peter, who was as quick as his memory-loss, now held a dagger to Slightly's pale throat. "You're treading on mutiny, Lost Boy Slightly," he growled. "Keep talking and I'll have you banned!"  
  
"You could never."  
  
"Try me!" Peter snapped.  
  
Silence fell upon them, swooping them into a chaste hug, embracing them in comfort like only a true mother could. Slightly was now the one who fidgeted, tapping his foot impatiently as to what to say to the Pan now.  
  
Silence held her breath as she waited for what he would say and clutched at her heart in anguish when he did speak.  
  
"What about love, Peter?"  
  
"I love Neverland," he snorted in reply, swatting the short tip of the dagger against a scraped boulder.  
  
"Don't you love the lost boys and I?"  
  
Peter stopped suddenly and stalked towards Slightly, his dagger raised threateningly, contemplating just jutting it into the boy's neck and watching as the thin vermilion liquid inside slowly gushed out in rivulets. He grabbed Slightly by the boy's fur collar and tossed him onto the ground.  
  
"What do I need love for?" he snarled.  
  
Slightly sat up, unfazed by the action as this happened every time they came out here, Peter just never remembered.  
  
"To give you strength, Peter."  
  
"Strength?" Peter threw his head back in joy, fully enjoying the joke of what had just been said. "I'm only the mere boy that the most feared pirate of all time cannot compete with!"  
  
"Strength from the heart, not physically."  
  
"I've got the will of an Indian," he smirked, crossing his arms, still clutching at the dagger, though with less intensity as before.  
  
"In your mind, yes, but what about that energy that comes from your heart. I myself, along with the other lost boys I'm sure, would give my life for you Peter. Would you do the same for us?"  
  
Peter clucked his tongue. "We're here to have adventures and fights, of course there are going to be losses. If I'd saved every lost boy that has ever found his way here, why, I'd be overthrown by those like yourself."  
  
Slightly rolled his eyes, "You'd just fly away and kill us in our sleep."  
  
"Peter Pan never runs away from a fight!"  
  
"Of course not. I remember when Hook shot you and even then you refused to retreat."  
  
"Hook's shot me?"  
  
Slightly gave him a bemused look. "Where do you think that scar on your shoulder came from?"  
  
"Scar, what scar?"  
  
Slightly stood up and walked over to where he was, running a hand lightly up Peter's arm before resting right next to the twisting, plush scar that was still livid with frailty. It hadn't been so long since that day, after all.  
  
"Oh, that scar," Peter frowned, his voice low.  
  
Slightly did not remove his hand from Peter's bare shoulder, instead began to lightly message the tense--if you could imagine tenseness from such a lad--muscles. "You really should relax, Peter, since you aren't at all worried about anything."  
  
"What have I to worry about?"  
  
Slightly's first thought was 'girls', but he bit his tongue. Peter had been leaving them spasmodically to go and visit this girl who told her brother's stories, a girl by the name of... Well, he wasn't quite sure since Peter eternally got them all mussed up, but he thought it was Brendy or something along those lines.  
  
"You have nothing to worry about. You are, after all, the boy who shall never grow up to do frighteningly boring jobs."  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Peter?"  
  
"Yes, Slightly?"  
  
"Do you remember what we did last time we came up here?"  
  
"Celebrate our victory over the Indians, of course," Peter grinned.  
  
"No, it was just us two."  
  
Peter glowered, thinking that Slightly was playing a game that he had not invented. "No, I don't."  
  
"We were celebrating that you hadn't gotten killed," Slightly said, rubbing a thumb along the scar, his other hand now cupping Peter's face.  
  
"Oh, that," Peter said, shrugging. "What about it?"  
  
"I think," Slightly swallowed nervously, licking his lips, "I think we should always celebrate such things. You being alive."  
  
"A marvelous idea!" Peter was always glad to be talked about, whether it be good or bad, as long as the attention was put on him.  
  
Slightly smiled, shyly leaning forward to capture Peter's lips chastely, wanting to pull away hurriedly but he felt frozen to the spot, as Peter kissed him back in only the way Peter Pan is capable.  
  
Slightly thanked God that he had swung down from a rope on the Jolly Roger to crash into Hook as he aimed, ensuring that his Pan could get away as unscathed as possible.  
  
Funny thing was, it had traveled through the brush until it had contacted upon the bark right above Slightly's entrance to the underground tree.  
  
*****  
  
The End  
  
P.S. The ending's a little wonky, but I was just trying to refer to the fact that it was Slightly's Entrance to the underground home that could have led to Peter's demise.  
  
Author's End Note: It's 1:30 on a school night and I can't fall asleep. Thus this was created. . 


End file.
